


ultrajoy

by twotwentyfour



Category: The Creatures | Cow Chop RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:09:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24720592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twotwentyfour/pseuds/twotwentyfour
Summary: Aleks has always known exactly how much James means to him.
Relationships: Aleksandr Vitalyevich Marchant/James Richard Wilson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	ultrajoy

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not really a writer, I wrote this in two days on my phone, it’s unbeta’d, and it’s my first ever fic, but childhood best friend aus matter more than anything else.

If there was anything Aleks expected to relay back to his mom as a significant event regarding his first day of third grade in a new school, getting hit square in the nose with a rubber band wasn’t it.

Taking a moment to blink in shock, Aleks rubs his nose and stares at the ground, assuming the worst— becoming a target was the last thing he wanted, and he was more than prepared to fight off whatever was coming his way to defend his honor for the rest of his elementary school life. As he raises his head from his backpack on the floor to meet the eyes of his assailant, though, Aleks doesn’t immediately find a group of whispering, giggling kids ready to mock him. Carefully searching the faces of his concentrating classmates for any signs of guilt, Aleks looks towards the front of the classroom and to his right and lands on the only sliver of a cheek turned to face his direction: a flash of dark, curly hair, a shocked, open-mouthed expression, and the largest, roundest pair of soft brown eyes Aleks has ever seen. The boy gapes at him, hands poised on his desk in a way that could only give away that he was fiddling with some classroom supply he wasn’t supposed to be. Aleks blinks again.

Ignoring the monotonous drone of his teacher explaining their school supplies list, Aleks lets go of the folder he was putting away to reach down to the floor, never breaking eye contact with the boy, and blindly skims the carpeted floor to find the projectile. When his fingers finally grasp around the thin, brown rubber band, and he holds it up for the boy to see, the wave of relief that washes over his face almost makes Aleks forget that the stray band accidentally hit him in the first place. Aleks raises an eyebrow. The look is apparently fleeting— the boy immediately changes expressions, flushing and snapping his mouth shut, and whips his head back to the front of the classroom as quickly as humanly possible. Only when he looks away does Aleks allow himself to smile and finish zipping his folders into his backpack. 

That afternoon after the final bell had rung, waiting for the school bus in the chilly September air, James tugs on Aleks’ sleeve and asks if he wants to be his best friend. Aleks, with all of the enthusiasm he can muster in his eight-year-old heart, says yes.

—

The snap of Aleks’ left wrist being crushed under his body weight and the echoing scream that follows are the only noises that ripple through the empty playground. It was dusk, and it was already far too late for him and James to be out, knowing he was going to have to offer his parents a million more “I’m sorry”s and “it won’t happen again”s than he ever would have had to for being out in the first place, but James is by his side the second he hits the ground-- the same as he has been for the past four months since they first met. Aleks can’t talk, he can’t breathe, the kaleidoscoping colors behind his tightly-squeezed eyes and the pressure of James’ grip on his shoulder the only sensations grounding him from the rhythmic shocks of pain seizing through his nerve endings.

Aleks can distantly hear James' assuring him that he’s going to get help, that he’ll be back in just a minute, that he’s going to be okay. The words swim through Aleks’ head, barely breaching his conscious mind, and before the meaning is fully understood, James’ grip is leaving his shoulder. Aleks lurches at the loss, the only connection between him and the rest of the world having been severed.

Aleks can hear James’ frantic footfalls as he begins the half a mile run back to his house. He thinks of the imprints James’ fingers must have left on his favorite Transformers shirt as he blacks out in the tanbark. 

The snap of the hospital-issue cherry popsicle that Aleks one-handedly breaks in half when he gets home from the emergency room is eerily reminiscent of the crack of his bones only hours before. James’ parents are over, concernedly speaking in hushed whispers with Aleks’ in the orange glow of their living room, but Aleks is happy to sit on the back porch with his best friend and listen to the crickets as the pain medication that’s clouding his head wears off. He doesn’t say thank you, not exactly, but his sticky fingers offering one half of the cherry dessert are more than enough to get his message across. James takes it from him and flashes a beaming, toothy smile, and Aleks can’t help but feel that the wave of affection that hits him matches the exact intensity of the pain of fracturing five bones in his wrist.

—

The summer before fifth grade, Aleks opens his front door to an armful of wood, two hammers and nails, and the barely-visible face of his best friend hidden behind his supplies. “Wanna build a treehouse?” James asks with a glint in his eye, but he’s already making his way to Aleks’ side gate before he can even get an answer. Aleks dashes to the kitchen to grab two Cokes and a bag of Doritos and meets James outside, nearly tripping over his feet with excitement.

They spend the whole afternoon building, constructing more of a shoddy wooden platform than anything a capable adult would have been able to help them make had they asked. The late-June sun burns into their necks as they work, hammering and pounding and prying and climbing, but Aleks ignores it in favor of wondering why he’d never even considered such a good idea before. Even though he hammers his thumb more times than he can count, and James scrapes straight through the knees of his jeans on the rough tree bark, they manage to construct a halfway-decent shelter that doesn’t look like it’ll come tumbling down any time soon. Finally, with the last nail in place, James gives the structure he’s standing on a once-over and a nod and collapses onto the platform with little grace. 

Later, when they’ve both caught their breath and finished their now-lukewarm drinks and stale snacks, the sun hanging low in the sky, James flops onto his back on the platform and closes his eyes, humming contentedly. “You know what would be cool?” he offhandedly asks, legs swinging where they’re dangling over the edge of the platform. Aleks can hear the swish of the fabric. “We should get a mini-fridge up here. You wouldn’t have to keep hauling ass back up and down for snacks.”

Aleks takes a moment in his comfortable position, watching the dust particles dance in the fading sunlight filtering through the oak branches, before answering. The massive effort that’s taken to get up and turn towards James to smack him on the arm, however, is totally worth it, and Aleks grins at his flinch. “Sure, man. Until that happens, though, we’re trading off. I’m definitely not gonna be the one getting my own refills all the time.”

“I’m serious!” James flops onto his side, resting his chin on his hand. “We could probably hook up your GameCube here, too. And, like, a speaker system. We’d never have to leave again!”

Aleks snorts and closes his eyes. “Come on, dude, this isn’t Captain Underpants. What would everything even connect to? We’d need, like, twenty extension cables to reach the house.” 

James grumbles something about having should’ve built their treehouse in a tree that already came with electricity, and Aleks knows he’s won. The next day, though, his mom goes with him to Safeway to buy a mini-cooler, and he stocks that with as many of their favorite snacks and drinks as he can. They spend nearly every night that summer in Aleks’ backyard, and despite their lack of woodworking skills, the treehouse never collapses.

—

On the last day of seventh grade, James doesn’t meet Aleks outside his Civics class like he always does. Aleks walks the mile home by himself, yearbook pressed to the inside of his forearm, one toe of his scuffed pair of vans falling after the other.

James is waiting on Aleks’ porch in a neon t-shirt and zip-off cargo pants, an overstuffed duffel bag by his side. Aleks thinks that he’s never seen as obvious a promise of adventure paired with as intense a look of overwhelming remorse. He looks absolutely miserable as he stands up, watching Aleks approach, and shoulders his duffel bag, shifting his weight from foot to foot. The slats in the roof of his porch stripe sunlight across his face, illuminating his cheek and the bridge of his nose, highlighting the rich brown of his glassy iris. 

“Where were you after school?” Aleks starts, tentative. “You could’ve told m--”

“M’ leaving for camp today,” James cuts in, suddenly, and looks at the ground. “It’s a sleepaway camp, the whole summer. I come back three days before school starts. I didn’t know how to tell you.” 

Aleks doesn’t know how to describe the freight train crashing into his chest and shattering the bones of his fragile ribcage, and he doesn’t know how to respond in a way that doesn’t give away that he forgot how to breathe. All he does is nod, clap his friend on the shoulder, and step up beside James onto the porch, pushing past and digging into his pocket to grab his house key. He can feel James’ eyes on his back as he opens the screen and enters his house, presses the front door closed behind him with a resounding click. Every step to his bedroom feels like he’s floating, the stained carpet beneath his feet the clouds he may as well be walking on. 

Aleks has felt grief before. The vicious punch in the gut of a lame apology that James had offered strikes Aleks with the exact same resounding hollowness as his favorite aunt passing away from cancer three years previous. He lays on his bed, the numbness sloshing around in his stomach almost a comfort as he hears James’ mom pull up in her van to pick her son up. 

Thinking about it later, Aleks thinks he cries more in the three months that James is gone more than he ever has in his entire life. 

(When he returns from camp with a godawful farmers’ tan, hair an entire inch or two longer, and more tie-dye shirts than any kid should reasonably have, even after an entire lifetime of summer camps, James makes it his first priority to give Aleks a green and purple friendship bracelet he made just for him. It’s kid shit, Aleks knows, but he can’t help but feel warm at the mere prospect of James thinking of him even once while he was away. His fractures are long since healed, but the way the bracelet slots just over the scar on his wrist can’t be a coincidence. Aleks knows it can’t.)

—

Taking the incentive to show his appreciation, Aleks offers a resounding thank you to the senior that James had managed to befriend enough to give them a ride to the beach as he tugs their cooler and chairs out of her trunk after him, nearly tripping over a stray piece of driftwood lying on the asphalt of the parking lot in the process. James had elected to carry nothing but a pair of sunglasses and his own towel, the little shit, but he’s already a good twenty feet ahead of Aleks, toeing off his shoes as he approaches the sand. Aleks can’t really blame him. His childlike excitement was, although oftentimes annoying, always endearing. It was a part of him that was so definitively James. 

“Over here, asshole!” James calls as Aleks sets up their chairs and towels, already knee-deep in the shimmering water. They’d come to have a chill day and put their short week of sophomore year spring break to good use with a couple of drinks, loud music, and a fire, but James had clearly decided that they were gonna spend all day swimming and Aleks didn’t mind that one bit. “Wait a minute, man!” is the protesting response, although he can’t be entirely sure James hears him over the waves crashing onto the sand. The second Aleks manages to get all of their shit situated, though, he pulls his t-shirt over his head, brushes his too-long bangs out of his eyes, and sprints into the ocean. If James immediately gets tackled into the ice-cold sea, it’s one-hundred-percent going to be Aleks’ fault. 

Aleks can feel the sun blistering the back of his neck as he shoves James down into the choppy waves, skin already burning without the soothing protection of the sunscreen he definitely told James to pack and James definitely forgot to bring. He doesn’t care. 

They have a good— yeah, a good day, Aleks decides. Messing around in the waves got old pretty fast, but they quickly start up an intense game of beach volleyball with some girls they meet that entertains them for a good few hours. When their rivals leave and take their volleyball with them (kicking the boys’ asses with a resulting score of 6-2 matches, James might add) they immediately turn attention to half-heartedly tossing a frisbee around that Aleks found half-buried under the pier— although their game was more of a ploy to see who could get the other as uncomfortably close to another beachgoer as possible trying to catch it. Anything Aleks does with James he knows he’ll enjoy, but eventually, all the physical activity gets the best of both them and Aleks isn’t afraid to admit he needs a break. They manage to finally finesse a fire pit from some family and start their actual chill time, wolfing down snacks they never even realized they were hungry for, and Aleks is more than happy to fall into their usual comfortable rhythm of casual conversation and banter he’s always cherished.

“One of my cousins wanted to start a band, once,” James comments after a pause in their conversation and one and a half Budweisers, pokes at the pebbles lining the fire pit with his flip-flop. It’s later now, beginning to get chilly, and they’re both a couple of beers in, stolen from James’ dad’s stash. Aleks likes the way the flush of intoxication creeps over James’ cheeks, even in the low light. The sea breeze carries a stray piece of ash from the fire and it swirls in the air, landing in James’ hair, unnoticed. “It never took off. They only had a drummer and a keyboardist, what kinda show would that make? Not even a lead singer to their name.” He twists his drink into his hands and gazes thoughtfully into the crackling flames, voice going uncharacteristically soft. “The idea they had for a name was kinda cool, though. ‘Ultrajoy’. Was supposed to be some kind of theme throughout their music, this concept of an emotional paradise. It kinda made me want to care about their band, this concept. Never having to worry about feeling something wrong, or bad, ya know?” James studies the embers, really looks, and Aleks studies his friend with the same intensity. 

As if coming out of a trance, though, James snaps his head up and flashes a grin at Aleks, regular demeanor seemingly flooding back into his body like it was his very life force. “Woulda asked to see if you could play bass for them, but I doubt your emo-ass aesthetic would fit their vibe.” 

“Shut the fuck up, dude,” is the biting—yet slurred—response, and the ferocity in which Aleks bumps his bottle to the side of James’ destroys any hope of a sentimental atmosphere that they had created. James erupts with laughter, a shrieking “ALEKSANDR!”, as his drink begins to bubble and froth over the bottleneck and onto his hand, dripping onto the sand below. He laughs his boisterous, loud, full-belly laugh that Aleks treasures as much as he treasures the very concept of their relationship itself. Aleks aches.

They get home at 3AM, hitching a ride from one of Aleks’ cool uncles that lived in the area who would rather get them home safe than rat their drinking habits out to his parents. After somehow successfully sneaking in, even in their drunken haze, they manage to make it through Aleks’ dark house up to his room and collapse onto his bed without much trouble. The only thing that distracts Aleks from the uncomfortable ocean salt sticking to his chest and arms and the peeling sunburn on the back of his neck enough to get to sleep is James at his side.

(His mom finds out the next morning exactly what they had gotten up to, and they’re both grounded for the rest of spring break, but Aleks wouldn’t have given that day up for the world.)

—

The neon glow of the giant 76 emblazoned on the gas station overhang where they had stopped hurts Aleks’ eyes, and he looks back down at the nozzle pumping liquid into James’ shitty old ‘99 Camry to give his corneas a break. James had gone into the Mini-Mart to grab a few snacks and Red Bulls to keep them awake, and while Aleks appreciated the thought of sustenance, his eyelids were closing at too rapid a rate without the distraction of conversation to keep his brain engaged. It was nearly 5AM at this point, the sky just beginning to shift to hues of early-morning blue and green, but both of them were too stubborn to have stopped and found a hotel to stay the night in. Aleks is more than glad that he already completed his shift at the wheel for the night.

To his right, the fuel dispenser slogs on, the rhythmic clunking of gas steadily filling up the vehicle. When the click signifying a full tank finally sounds out in the early-morning air, Aleks has to use all of the strength in his body to pry himself up from where he was leaning against the flaking green paint of James’ car and unhook the nozzle from the fuel neck. 

He had just managed to slide back into the passenger seat and adjust his beanie where it had slipped back too far when James slides into the drivers’ side, passing Aleks a Red Bull, a bag of Chex Mix, and a sleeve of powdered donuts. “What? It’s breakfast!”, he protests at Aleks’ unimpressed glance his way, but Aleks just shakes his head with a smile and tears open the donut wrapper. James shifts the Camry into drive and pulls out of the parking lot, setting his GPS for the nearest entrance back onto the highway, and starts mouthing the along to the intro of Bat County by Avenged Sevenfold when the song comes up on shuffle. The 76 fades from view behind them.

It was Aleks who proposed the idea, this impromptu road trip that had been itching at the back of his mind for weeks after a particularly difficult set of midterms. He and James had both been immensely stressed out, the pressure of junior year and college applications finally getting to them, and Aleks couldn’t think of a better way to distract them other than a classic Aleks-and-James adventure. Anything that put the prospect of college and the possibility of no more Aleks-and-James adventures out of Aleks’ mind was a win, actually, and spending as much time as possible with James was a given, so it wasn’t a difficult decision for either of them to make. Neither really had a destination in mind, not really, but the hours spent together driving and stopping wherever they damn well pleased whenever they damn wanted was more than enough to get Aleks’ mind to other, better places.

James is— distracting in the seat next to him, fingers drumming on the steering wheel as the song ends and some ballad by A Perfect Circle begins to blare out of the shitty speakers. He’s a loud person, sure, but that’s not really why he ever really caught Aleks’ eye. Even through the haze of exhaustion, Aleks can’t help but take a second to give in to the distraction he takes another handful of Chex Mix from between them. 

He had always been entranced by James’ smile, his shining eyes, but even now, curly hair unkempt and sticking up and purple half-moons sitting deepset under his eyes, Aleks is overcome with a wave of affection at even looking at his friend’s stupidly happy expression. They’ve had their ups and downs, like in any relationship, but ups like this that make Aleks’ heart ache with affection are worth going through a thousand pitfalls of total heartbreak for.

James shifts to grab a powdered donut between his middle finger and thumb, clearly trying to touch as little of the white powder possible, and puts his emotional rendition of Judith on hold as he eats his snack. Aleks snorts at him as he struggles, watching him try and fail to lap up the disobedient pieces of stray powder stuck to the corners of his mouth. “What?” he laughs, turning to give Aleks a wink. “Pretty sexy way to keep clean, huh? I should really be charging for permission to see this.” 

“Sure, dude, whatever you say.” Aleks rolls his eyes, averting his gaze to look out the window again, the pang of fondness shooting through his body at the sight too much to handle. The pine trees they’re driving through seem to glow in the early rays of morning sunshine, and Aleks doesn’t know if it’s the sleep deprivation or his emo tendencies in general, but watching the light filter through the branches reminds him a little too closely of a triumphant summer project completed eight years ago.

“Remember that one time, at the beach last year?” Aleks starts suddenly, and he can hear James’ brain shift into overdrive. They were both wasted, and he doesn’t expect him to, but James seems to locate within his memory the time Aleks means judging by his small noise of affirmation around another donut. “I don’t really know if I’m a hundred percent on board with that idea you had. You know, at the fire pit.” 

Considering his lack of response, Aleks assumes James is lost at this point, the exact moment he’s referencing probably lost to his drunken mind. Aleks turns back around and pulls at the sleeve of his hoodie, shrugs. “Y’know. Your cousin’s band, or whatever?” 

Realization dawns in James’ eyes, and he averts his focus on the road for a second to stare at Aleks. “I didn’t know I told you about that. It was just,” a nervous laugh, hand pushed through his hair. His fingers leave white streaks of powder in their wake. “Just an idea. A kinda fake deep one, and coming out of my drunk-ass mouth. I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”

Aleks doesn’t really know what to do but shrug again. “It’s not that it’s a bad concept, man. I just don’t really think I agree with it.” James sits in silence at that, back to focusing on the road. Aleks tries again. “I mean, it’s not like feeling good all the time is a bad thing, you know? But I feel like, positive and negative experiences, when they hit at the same intensity, they... go together. They’re kind of the same thing sometimes? Like..,” he balks, suddenly unsure, and leans back in defeat. “I mean...”

“No, I know what you mean,” James cuts him off, voice thoughtful. He pauses for a moment, but reaches over, eyes still on the road, and ghosts a barely-there thumb down the length of the scar on Aleks’ wrist before drawing back, both hands returning to firmly grip the steering wheel. Aleks stares at his wrist. James drives. They don’t say anything until they stop for gas again, but Aleks knows it’s because they don’t have anything else they need to explain.

—

They’re eighteen when Aleks invites James over to spend the night in their treehouse, only motivated by his dad’s empty threats to “tear that eyesore of a stack of plywood down” after it’s sat so many years unused in their backyard. His parents would never do something as disrespectful to his childhood belongings as that, but it’s as good an excuse as any to both have James over and reminisce, two activities that Aleks ends up splitting most of his time between anyway. 

They make a movie night out of it, setting up a projector against the side of the house and dragging piles of blankets sleeping bags up through the branches to the creaky platform. James elects to watch The Matrix, and although they’ve both seen it a thousand times before, Aleks always appreciates revisiting a young Keanu Reeves, so he agrees. It’s a nice night, warm almost-summer air permeating the air, the stars blinking quietly down at them from above the horizon. Even though it takes a while for them to set everything up, Aleks doesn’t mind, enjoying the aching familiarity of the atmosphere and James by his side like the many nights they’d spent in the treehouse together as little kids. 

Once they’re settled, the night starts to pass as uneventfully and important as their time together always is. Aleks fees that the hours he wastes with James doing nothing of significance somehow count double in time well spent.

As the film ends with Keanu blasting off into the sky and the first notes of Rage Against the Machine start to play, Aleks yawns, pausing the movie with their remote and heading down to unplug their setup. James is waiting for him when he gets back up, that same thoughtful expression on his face that he always has when he’s particularly interested in something Aleks is saying, but it doesn’t seem like it’s anything related to the Matrix. As soon as Aleks manages to get settled back in his blanket cocoon positioned as close as possible to the way he was before he moved, James finally meets his eyes, offering a sheepish grin. 

“I wanted to tell you, I’ve finally committed somewhere, and I decided on Colorado State. Same as you.” Aleks splutters in shock and James laughs, clearly expecting his reaction, reaching over to wipe a piece of spittle that landed on the corner of Aleks’ mouth. His thumb swiping at Aleks’ lip leaves him almost as dazed as the statement itself. “So, y’know, we can dorm together and stuff, and even schedule some classes together you want? If you aren’t sick of me by then.” His grin never leaves his face, not even when Aleks raises his hand to the back of James’ neck, tugging at the curls, and not even when Aleks simultaneously pulls him down and pushes up on his elbow to meet James halfway. 

James closes the inch of space between them and kisses him, hesitant until Aleks reciprocates with all of the burning affection that had made a home in his soul since the day that they first met. Aleks kisses him with the intensity of a drowning man, like he’s returning home from a war, and the dizzying thought that this one action is the outlet of nine years of built-up devotion makes his head swim.

Aleks pulls back, panting, runs a thumb over James’ flushed cheek, and smiles. He doesn’t need to say anything. James knows.

**Author's Note:**

> Although I could definitely see some of the emotions they struggle with being interpreted as internalized homophobia, I really wanted the concept of “having feelings you’re not supposed to” to be similar to my experiences growing up with borderline personality disorder and the intense, overwhelming emotions that came with it. Feel free to interpret however you want though!
> 
> Any feedback or constructive criticism is more than appreciated! I hope this was at least a little comprehensible.


End file.
